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<title>Helpless (without you in my life) by KiwiKat_Writes</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22391233">Helpless (without you in my life)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiKat_Writes/pseuds/KiwiKat_Writes'>KiwiKat_Writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hamilton - Miranda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angelica being a supportive sister, F/M, YA DONE MESSED UP A-A-RON, a n g s t, destroys burr, eliza is Big Sad tm, i tried making this angsty tell me if its bad, now i want to do a sequel where angelica just</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 19:02:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22391233</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiKat_Writes/pseuds/KiwiKat_Writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>a n g s t</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Helpless (without you in my life)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eliza heard the door swing closed behind her husband. The fair-skinned woman was aching to know whatever her dear Alexander had placed on his pillow. She knew that he might come back, so she waited. After time passed, she sat up. The sun had barely just risen. A square envelope, sitting perfectly balanced on the pillow, caught her eye. She opened the letter, unfolding the three pages of writing. She perched on the edge of the bed, reading through the pages. Only halfway through page one, her hands froze. The pages fluttered to the ground as she dropped them, stood up and began to throw her dress on. After she had become decent, she almost threw the door open and hurried to the checkpoint on the Hudson. The thought of her kids flitted through her minds, but she dismissed the thought as she paid the toll to cross. As she was rowed over to the other bank, her hands clenched into tight fists. The knuckles turned white as she bounced her knee, becoming impatient. Finally, with a bump, she was on the other side. Thanking the ferryman, she delicately stepped onto the ground and rushed along the riverbank, hoisting her skirt up above her knees. The sun was barely up, the bottom curve a hair above the Green Mountains. She had almost reached a large bush when she heard two men counting, in perfect synchronization, and the thud of boots hitting the dirt ground. She sped up, just reaching the bush as the footsteps stopped. The sound of cloaks swishing through the wind as the men turned around, then two loud bangs. Eliza barely recognized the sounds as gunshots. She ran around the bush, stopping when she saw the two staggering men. The one closest to her, a taller man she recognized as the terrible flirt, aka Aaron Burr, regained his balance. On the other side, the cloud of smoke parted to reveal ginger hair and bright, violet blue eyes. Eliza watched, as if the world had stopped, as her husband stepped backward, stumbled again, then fell to the ground. Not caring about her dress anymore, Eliza rushed forwards to meet him on the ground. He was gripping his torso, lying deathly still. She kneeled down in the dirt and gently turned her Alexander over, so he was facing upwards with his head supported by her lap. Her eyes traveled down his weary face, to his shoulders, to his stomach. A gasp escaped her lips as she saw the blood against his pitch black outfit. She was unaware of the tears slipping down her face, as she gathered her husband, her never quiet, always loud Alexander, into her arms. She murmured little nothings to him, and flinched as she saw the doctor gently pick his body up. They stepped back into a boat, and Eliza’s only concern was for her husband.<br/>	Angelica stretched as she woke up. Stepping out of the bed, she hissed as her feet met the cold wooden floor. Shaking off the initial chill, she stood up and pulled her signature pink dress on, which was a good 45 minute endeavor in and of itself. Walking out into the halls, she gently pushed Angie’s door open. Her face softened at the sight of the Hamilton family’s now-eldest child, sprawled out against her bedspread. She entered the room, shaking the girl’s shoulders. Blue eyes, just a few shades less vibrant than her father’s, opened and a yawn shook her frame. Angelica laughed. <br/>“Good morning, sweetie!” Leaving Angie to get dressed, she walked to the door leading to Eliza and Alexander’s room. It was amazing that her sister had managed to get the hard-working man out of his study. But when she entered the room, neither were seen. She stepped closer to the bed, startling when papers crinkled underneath her foot. She knelt down and read the letter.<br/>‘My dearest Eliza, I apologize, for I will not be with you when you wake. I apologize for this, but you will see why. Earlier last evening, I had told you about an important meeting. The truth is, the meeting is not of political matters, or even personal matters. Aaron Burr, the very man who’ve I’ve spoken against so many times against to you, has become displeased with my business in the political system of our new nation. He decided that the only way to solve this difference in our idealistics is with a duel. We wrote back and forth, me hoping to solve this problem. Unfortunately, Aaron Burr would not be satisfied with my explanations.’ Angelica was getting confused. What had happened to Aaron and Alexander that drove them so far apart? ‘He demanded a duel. I know what duels have done to this family, and I was hesitant to accept. Nevertheless, I knew that to protect our family and your legacy, that I would have to accept. If I did not, I would not have been level to your esteem. I do not plan to die today, and I want to be back before you open your eyes. But, I am aware that I may not be back. This is why I wrote the letter. If, by the time you have read this, I have not returned to the house, I am, by all means, killed by the hand of Aaron Burr.’ Angelica had gone pale. She dropped the letter, with shaking hands, and stepped quickly into the main room. A knock on the door startled her, and she briskly walked to the door. Opening it, she saw Nathaniel Pendleton, a dear friend of Hamilton’s, blowing his nose. “Mr. Pendleton.” The man straightened, pushing his handkerchief into his pocket. “Miss Schuyler, I regret to inform you, but-” Angelica had gone pale. “Your sister’s husband has been shot in the side, due to a duel. He is at the hospital, if you want to see him.” Angelica shook, scared for her Betsey and her Alexander. She knew what a gunshot would do to someone’s life and this was obviously a serious wound.<br/>	“I will accompany you to the hospital.” In a whirl of coral skirts, she was off, speed-walking down the street and not even bothering to wait for the poor Pendelton. It seemed to take forever. The streets were disorganized, people whispering behind bags or hands. When they saw her, the whispers multiplied. It was as if something had gone careening through the streets, something holding a dying man. Finally, the hospital came into view. She didn’t bother with waiting for someone to open the door, blowing through it with a swish of a skirt. AN attendant came up and quietly told her one number. <br/>12-1. <br/>She nodded in thanks and walked down the hall, finally finding the door she needed. Stepping in, she was greeted with the sight of a man laying limply on a bed, her dear sister sobbing into his side. Emotions had finally forced their way through the haze of shock that had shrouded her mind since Pendelton had shown up at the doorstep, sadness and anger and confusion twisting through her mind. She slowly sank to her own knees, beside her sister (when had she gotten there?) and laid a hand on the shaking blue shoulder. Tears spilled down her own face as her dear sister clung to her in a hug, the two of them keeping vigil over the man laying vulnerable on the table. It seemed like it was forever that Alexander Hamilton was breathing laboriously, the rattly sound of breath being sucked in and painfully released. It was the third (or was it the hundredth) hour of watching silently when his lips started moving. Eliza leaned in, the tears still streaming down alabaster cheeks as she tilted her ear to his mouth. Angelica heard one phrase whispered out:<br/>“My dearest Betsey….” The phrase was croaky. It was obvious that it cost Alexander pain to speak at all. He inhaled one more time. Eliza just watched, gripping his hand. His limbs went stiff, then a whispered exhale and everything went limp. Angelica saw Eliza stiffen as the tension left Alex’s own limbs, and she stood up in a swooshing motion. She pressed her ear to her husband’s heart. Angelica could only watch as Eliza listened to something only she could hear. Then she turned her head so she was looking straight down at his chest, standing stock-still. Angelica kneeled next to her sister, offering silent comfort. She knew what had just happened. Then, with a scream of pure pain and suffering Eliza’s legs gave out. She buried her face in his chest, the tears renewed. Angelica covered her mouth, choking back her own sob. She huddled a bit closer to Eliza, and for a second they were children again, Eliza sobbing over her doll being ripped apart by a dog and Angelica comforting her. That seemed like so long ago. And now her brother in all but blood was dead. She joined her sister in mourning, just sitting in silence as Eliza’s shoulders shook with every breath and cry of pure heartbreak pushed out between quaking lips. It was all they could do. Alexander Hamilton, the flame of the Revolution, the little lion, George Washington’s right hand man, then Treasury Secretary…… he was dead.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>&lt;:'D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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